


I'll Do Better

by ruxian



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Chloe Decker Finds Out, F/M, Hurt Lucifer, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Lucifer Feels, Wingfic, poor boy needs a break, post 2x18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-01-07 09:45:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12230382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruxian/pseuds/ruxian
Summary: Lucifer Morningstar is a man of his word.When he made a promise to Chloe that he would tell her everything, he meant it.Even if he's not sure what that means anymore.(Or the one where Lucifer wakes up in the middle of the desert with two feathered monstrosities attached to his back, even though he totally didn't ask.)





	1. Did I Ask? No.

**Author's Note:**

> When I started writing this, it was back in June when we had no clue what would be happening in season three, and it's gonna stay that way. I also have no beta, so any and all mistakes are my own. This was originally going to be a one-shot, but it was getting to be a length that would be better split up. I'm aiming to have it be two or three parts! That being said, I hope you enjoy the first part! :D

The first thing he felt was the weight on his back. 

The heat and sand came next, irritating him more than he’d care to admit. Still, he couldn’t ignore the weight hanging off his shoulders. 

He knew exactly what it was, but he didn’t dare peer over his shoulders just yet; didn’t want it to deal with that particular can of worms.

He rose to his feet, slowly, swaying and stuttering as he found his balance. Belatedly, he realized he was only wearing his slacks, but figured his missing clothing was the least of his problems. 

Looking around, shielding his face from the sun when it hit his eyes (later, he’d laugh about the irony of The Lightbringer shying away from light, but now wasn’t quite the right time), and finding nothing but desert all around him. Dully, he noted the burns on his arm and hand, but such things were nothing new to him. Only then, only when he had inspected his surroundings did he look behind him. 

His wings moved when he peered at them, a reflex half forgotten, but not at all foreign. The feathers, just as broad and brilliantly white as he remembered, splayed proudly outwards, stretching as he rolled his shoulders slightly. He turned his gaze to the sky, a rueful smile playing at his lips.

Whether it was from shock or an odd response to fear, he didn’t know. 

“I don’t even know what to say this time, Dad! I’m not sure which part of _cutting my wings off and burning them_ was unclear, but I don’t want this!” He yelled, voice raspy from a dry throat, and even as the words tumbled off his tongue, he knew they were a half truth. 

The wings protruding from his back felt warm, a welcoming grace he had forgotten since he washed up on the beach with Maze all those years ago. In the eyes of someone as old as he, five years was a blink, a breath, yet so much had changed. He had a taste of it when his wings had been stolen; when he had carried the appendages to the beach and laid them out so carefully, sat between them and rolled a cigarette between his fingers. 

When they went up in flames, Amenadiel’s punches made it very easy to ignore the twinge in his chest, made it so easy to never look as his feathers turned to ash. 

So now, with the brilliant white wings responding to muscle memory and the warmth of divinity impossible to ignore, Lucifer had to be honest with himself and admit that he had missed them. 

At the end of the day, no matter how many names he acquired over the millennia, he was still an angel. His wings were a part of him, a part of his anatomy; even severing them hadn’t gotten rid of that, of the muscles and small bones unique to an angel that ran in his back. Having them back felt so wrong and right, and he knew he didn’t have the heart to cut them off again, and it wasn’t just the pain that made him think that. 

Not that he thought Maze would be willing to do so in the first place - that was one fight he didn’t wish to repeat. 

He sighed, giving his newborn wings an experimental flap. Sand blew around him, floating off in a cloud and out from his feathers themselves. The motion made him acutely aware of the sand grating in his feathers, and if he squinted he could see where the beige grains were lodged. 

“Bloody hell…”

Lucifer took a deep breath, steeling himself as he brought his right wing around himself and splayed the feathers as far as they could go, a small bit of sand falling to the ground with the movement. He blinked, hand hovering millimeters from the brilliant white plumage. It took him a minute, or maybe ten, but finally he made contact. 

The gasp pulled from him involuntarily, and he’d deny the tears that formed in his eyes for the rest of existence. 

They were just as soft as he remembered, and now that they were closer, Lucifer could see the iridescence sparkling at him in the sunlight. The soft familiar colors comforted him, bringing a small smile to his face. He took his time carding through them, being extra careful around the tips of the primaries, for they too were just as he remembered: deadly sharp. He chalked it up to nerves, since they weren’t always weapons; it would be rather inconvenient to be cut with your own feathers all the time during flight. They often sharpened during times of stress, so he was ready to protect himself at a moment's notice.

And really, if anything qualified as stressful, it was this. 

Still, Lucifer found the weaponized primaries comforting in a way, a sign that his body, even new and battered, was reacting how it was supposed to. 

Soon enough, both wings were (mostly) free from sand and folded neatly on his back, letting him focus more on a new task: getting home. 

Feeling his face, Lucifer decided he couldn’t have been in this desert too long, since he was still closely shaven. Looking down at his chest, he found the story to be the same; not a single chest hair, just the odd burns and a tan he hadn’t had since–

“Oh Father, what did you do to me…?” The Devil whispered, brown eyes wide as his brain tried to process what was happening. 

Desperate, Lucifer called upon his Hell form, not sure if he would be relieved or not if it showed. 

Nothing happened. 

His breath started to quicken, panic setting in before he could think to fight it. Trying again and again, he failed to bring his charred flesh forward, and a broken sound croaked from his throat. 

Shooting for something smaller, Lucifer willed hellfire to his eyes, and couldn’t help but sigh in relief when he felt the familiar burn.

At least one thing was the same. 

Maybe he was just too drained to call upon it at the moment; he made a mental note to try again when he figured out what the ever-loving- _fuck_ was going on. 

It was all too much too soon. First his wings, now _this_?

His angelic form hadn’t been his since he Fell; he hadn’t been like _this_ for eons. 

Lucifer now took the time to study the burns covering his skin, breathing becoming more ragged as he started to recognize the fading scars. If he squinted, he could make out a slight golden shimmer on his flesh, just as it had been before the Fall. 

He was _healing_. 

_“Why…? Why now?!”_ The Devil screamed, tears coming to his eyes unwillingly. “Why after all this time do you heal me _now?!”_

Lucifer glared at the sky, tendons in his neck taught and teeth partially bared as his eyes darted from cloud to cloud, hoping for just a sliver of an answer. 

As usual, there was none. 

He wanted to hit something, wanted to break something in between his fingers and hurl it at the sky, but there was no point. 

“I really don’t understand you, Father. Why is it so hard for you to tell me what you mean, huh?! Why can’t you just be _honest_ and _tell me?!”_ Rationally, Lucifer knew he’d have better luck asking a brick wall, but it felt good to yell at his Father, whether He was listening or not. 

He wanted to yell more, to scream until he got an answer, but his dry throat wouldn’t allow it. 

Suddenly, he was very glad Chloe wasn’t around, as he had a feeling his throat would be hurting a lot more. 

Wait. 

_“Chloe…”_

His eyes widened, her name falling from his chapped lips unbidden as he started looking around frantically for a sign of civilization. Of course, the area was completely barren. 

He had to get back to L.A., and fast; he couldn’t let her think he left again, not so soon after last time. Hopefully, _hopefully_ she wouldn’t think that after his voicemail. The Detective was smart, so smart, she couldn’t think he had left again, right?

Right?

Nodding to himself, Lucifer started looking for any sign he could take as a way to get home, to get to Chloe. Of course, all he could see was sand, rocks, plants, and more sand. The desert plants gave him no inkling as to which direction he should take, nor did the rocks and mountains, but at least they’d give him a higher vantage point without having to fly.

He wasn’t quite ready for that, not yet. 

It took him longer than he’d care to admit, but finally he managed to scale a smaller bit of mountain–no more than thirty feet tall–and stand on top. He spun slowly, squinting at the horizon in hopes to see something, anything resembling humanity through the heat waves. 

Nothing. 

Nothing but sand, and more rocks. 

He wanted to fall to his knees and scream. He needed to get to Chloe as soon as possible, needed to let her know he hadn’t left, that he wanted to tell her the truth. 

Even if he wasn’t sure of what that was anymore. 

Lucifer stood for a long time, long enough for the sun to start lowering into hues of orange and purple as he pondered. He was completely oblivious to the world, not noticing the sign he had been looking for had landed right next to him until it made a sound. 

A turkey vulture, squawking and staring startled him out of his little headspace. It pecked at his feet a few times, causing him to flinch and kick at the thing, before locking eyes with him again and refusing to budge. The Devil stared back, turning to face the bald bird completely. They met each other's gaze for several minutes, some strange unspoken connection being formed. Suddenly, the vulture turned its gaze to the horizon and darted into the air, flying in the direction of the sun for a few moments before turning back and circling over him. 

Lucifer stood confused as the vulture repeated the process twice before he got the message, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

Why his Father couldn’t have just given him a map was beyond him, because he’d much rather try to figure that out instead of following a bloody bird.

“This bloody thing better lead me home, Father…” He whispered, _to Chloe_ going unspoken. 

Ignoring the sudden bundle of nerves in his stomach, Lucifer swallowed, and spread his magnanimous wings as wide as they could go. The vulture gave a caw of approval, the sound raspy and strange, but somehow encouraging.

What was that saying humans had? Like riding a bicycle? 

Well, he hoped it was true; he really, _really_ didn’t want to fall. 

Again. 

Taking a deep breath, he bent his knees, willing aching muscles and bones into action, and with a large swoop, the Devil took flight. 

Oh, and what an awkward flight it was. 

Lucifer flew for what felt like days, but really couldn’t have been more than a few hours. 

Maybe. He hoped, anyway. 

He was much slower than he remembered being. 

His maiden flight with his new wings was a bumpy one, with how he was often tipping and taking sudden nose dives when he lost track of the wind current. Still, he never fell more than a few dozen feet, so he took that as a win. 

It had long since gone dark since he had taken off, only the light of the stars and moon illuminating his path. The Lightbringer took comfort in the light above him, feeling it soak into his feathers and skin. It felt good, invigorating even. His wings were literally glowing, a hum of new energy coursing through his veins. 

He doubted he could’ve made the journey without the light of the stars. 

That, and the fact his companion never left him. 

When he dipped, the bird did. When he had to slow down, the bird was patient and did too. It acted as his guide, making subtle turns here and there above the clouds and smog until their destination came into view. 

Lux, shining in all her glory. 

A bright smile of victory came onto his face, and he turned to the vulture to thank it, only to find the bird gone. 

Maybe it wasn’t there in the first place, which wouldn’t surprise him; his Father wasn’t above being cryptic. Regardless, he was grateful to see the city. 

Making a rash decision, he banked left, heading towards Chloe’s home instead of his.

_‘Mysterious ways indeed, Dad…’_

Now that he knew where he was going, the flight seemed easier, until finally he was close enough to Chloe’s apartment that he could land in an alleyway by a café and walk. 

It wasn’t until he touched down on solid ground did he realize how exhausted he was. 

It took substantial effort, but he managed to tuck his wings out of sight, his back feeling much like he had been hit with a semi; it seemed his new wings weren’t what they used to be - although he was thankful they weren’t restored in an atrophied state, and he could actually _use them_ to get back home. He had to lean against the alley wall and catch his breath, though he would forever deny doing so. If Maze were there, she’d probably be laughing at him, and for some reason the thought brought a smile to his face. 

At least some things never change. 

After his small break, he started the normally ten minute walk to the Detective’s house, feet dragging the whole way. It took twenty minutes at least before he stumbled up the few steps and leaned against her front door. 

Once there, he heard voices, but was unable to make out what they were saying. Was that Daniel? Definitely the Detective. Still, they might as well have been speaking gibberish for all he could understand. 

It took far too much energy to knock on the door, and he _definitely_ wasn’t leaning on the frame for support. 

Nope. No way. 

The voices stopped, and the sound of heeled shoes made its way to the door. A small woosh of air, and there she was, eyes wide and blonde hair frazzled from a long day. She looked shocked to see him. He hadn’t been gone that long, had he? Or maybe it was his appearance; yes, that must be it. 

“Lucifer…?” Her eyes were so blue in that moment, so wide and red rimmed. He hoped it wasn’t because of him. 

“Chloe…” His throat felt like sandpaper, so dry and swollen, and it was like a ton of bricks had come down on him. 

He briefly registered that his body was sliding, that he was falling, but his vision was swimming and the Detective sounded so far away. It took a lot of effort to keep his eyes open (he couldn’t).

“Lucifer! Shit, Dan, I need your help over here!” Chloe was shouting, why was she shouting? 

Oh, but her hands were keeping him steady. She was worried, she shouldn’t be worried, not about him. 

“What’s going– Oh my God… What happened?” A new set of hands were helping him up, they were more callused and larger than the other. 

“I don’t know, help me get him to the couch.” 

“It’s alright, I got ‘im.” And he was being carried. Had he really drained himself that much that he couldn’t walk on his own? 

Maybe it was because Chloe was there.

Oh, sofas were comfortable. Larger hands were lifting his legs up, that must be Daniel. Where was the Detective, then?

“Lucifer, hey, stay awake. I don’t know if you have a concussion yet, okay?” Ah, there she was. 

“‘’m sorry… didn’t mean to leave again…” Did his voice really sound that weak?

“Yeah, I figured; Maze found your car in the hospital parking lot. But don’t worry about that right now, okay? Can you open your eyes for me?”

_That_ took more effort than it should’ve, and once they were open a sliver, Chloe’s gentle fingers were prying them further so she could see. 

“Dan, can you shine your flashlight over here for a second? Just over his eyes.” 

“Sure, one sec.” And then there was a bright light in his eyes, again. Second time that day he was shying away from light, how ironic. 

“His pupils are both responsive. Hey buddy, can you squeeze my fingers?” That was Dan. Everything was so blurry now, how long had he been flying?

Still, he raised his hands and grasped Dan’s fingers, two in each hand. Forcing himself to remember to be gentle, he gave a squeeze. 

“Ah, uh, good good. Man you’re strong…” Ah, the Douche was shaking his hands. Oops. 

“Sorry… tried to be gentle…” The look Dan gave him was hilarious. He should laugh. 

“Alright, he’s not clammy or pale and he’s responsive, but we should take him to the ER just in case.” Detective, ever cautious. 

“No… no hospitals… Maze… Maze’ll know what to do…” Maze would most likely laugh at him for being so pitiful, but still. 

“Lucifer, you have burns all over your body and you look like you haven’t had water in days. We should be admitting you to the hospital.” She was so stubborn, and he loved it. 

“No, Detective… Please just… call Maze…” He forced his eyes open more now, making eye contact with her. 

Their gazes stayed locked for a moment before she nodded, turning to Dan. 

“Call Maze for me? And can you bring water? I’ll stay here and watch him.” Chloe said, eyes boring into Dan before he sighed and nodded, leaving the room and tapping at his phone. 

The sound of the faucet started when Chloe sat down at the table in front of him, and Lucifer had to focus on her to keep his eyes open. He hoped she didn’t mind. 

“Lucifer, can you tell me what happened?” She asked, thanking Dan softly when he walked in with a large glass of water, muttering softly into his phone. 

“Was at the hospital… just visited Linda, called you… did you get my voicemail...?” He rasped, and in the moment he was very grateful she was holding a glass of water to his lips. 

As she helped him drink, she nodded, eyes darting over his face a bit before she sighed. 

“I did. That’s one reason why I knew you hadn’t just left again, not after saying something like that. You don’t go back on your word, do you?” There was a sly smile on her lips, one that was easy to return. 

“Never, Detective…” _I’m sorry._ He wanted to say, but he kept that one saved for later. 

“You can tell me whatever it is later, okay? Let’s just focus on what happened for now.” She was in full Detective Mode now, he could tell. 

Before he could answer, Dan stepped back in, phone in hand. 

“Hey, Maze wants to look at you. Can you sit up for a FaceChat?” He asked, moving to help Lucifer up if he needed, which he did. 

It took a moment, but soon the Morningstar was sitting upright. Hallelujah. 

Ha.

Dan sat next to him to hold the phone in his line of sight, and in a blink Maze’s half-annoyed, half-worried face popped up. She was still in the hospital with Linda, based on the background. After looking him over, the demon raised an eyebrow at him. 

“You look like hell.”

“Very funny, Maze...” 

“Sound like it too. Who did this?” Lucifer knew if he actually had an answer to that question, they were as good as dead. Ever loyal she was, even if she denied it. 

“I… I don’t know, but Maze… He… Maze, He gave them back. He gave me my wings–”

“He _what?!”_ The wonder and shock on her face was priceless, and he had half the thought to ask Dan to take a screenshot. 

Ignoring the two detective’s confused expressions, he nodded. 

“I don’t know why… I didn’t ask for them. Maze He healed me… this is…” He didn’t want to know why his voice cracked at that moment, or why his eyes stung. He didn’t want to know why Maze’s face went blank before she nodded. 

“That’s your… Okay. Okay, we’ll figure it out. I'll grab Amenadiel and head over there now. Don’t do anything stupid.” With that, the screen went black, and Dan pocketed his phone.

Lucifer was so tired, but the Detective looked like she wanted to talk, so he kept his eyes open (sort of) and made a valiant effort to remain upright. Thankfully, Daniel seemed to notice and put a steadying hand around his back. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him; it was so sore after flying. 

“Can you tell me what happened after you called me?” Chloe was speaking again, and he had to think before he answered. 

“I don’t know… I think I was hit in my head, but I just woke up in a desert…” His brow furrowed as he tried to remember anything that could be of use, but to no avail. 

Really, this was quite pitiful of him; he was The Devil for goodness’ sake. 

Before he could really process what was going on, Chloe had motioned for Dan to push him forward a bit and suddenly her hands were on his head. 

“What are you doing, Detective?” He whispered, leaning into Daniel more than he wanted to. 

He was just so tired. 

“Feeling if you have a bump… Doesn’t look like it, though.” Her hands gently carded through his hair, dislodging sand and a few pebbles as she searched. 

As Chloe removed her hands, she let Dan ease him back, frowning in confusion when he halted his movements and widened his eyes. 

Dan for the first time actually looked at Lucifer’s back, fingers carefully trailing over his shoulder blades. The muscles twitched in response, causing Dan to flinch in surprise. 

There were muscles there he didn’t recognize, muscles that normal people didn’t have. Dan knew back muscles; his own were nothing to scoff at, but mostly he saw them on the body builders he worked out with. What Lucifer had wasn’t anything he had seen before.

“Your scars are gone…” Was all Dan chose to say, however, since truthfully that was more remarkable than whatever he had felt. 

“What?” Chloe got up then, coming to sit on the arm of the couch so she could see. 

“I told you… got my wings back…” Lucifer mumbled, because really all he wanted to do was sleep. 

His body was screaming at him, every muscle protesting his state of consciousness. Sleep sounded so inviting, but now Chloe’s fingers were trailing over his sore muscles and all he could do was sigh. 

“They’re really…” Her voice was so full of wonder, fingers running back and forth over his back in a comforting manner. 

He couldn’t ponder that much, though, because Maze had chosen that moment to pound on the door, breaking whatever trance had settled over the three of them. 

The Detective got up to answer, and in seconds his right hand and brother were in his line of sight. Both of them looked far too worried; it didn’t suit them. 

“I’m not cutting them off again.” Maze hissed, body tight and coiled in a way he had seen many a time, knowing all too well it was never a good thing to be on the other side of that look.

“I know, Maze... I don’t plan on amputation anytime soon…” She seemed halfway mollified at that, shoulders lowering ever so slightly. 

Dan was still holding him up, and later he’d have to ask why the detective was being so kind. While it was true they had formed some semblance of a friendship, they were by no means close; certainly not close enough for Daniel to be supporting almost all of his weight without complaint. 

A question for another day, he supposed. 

“Luci… what happened to you?” Amenadiel was kneeling in front of him, eyes searching over his body. “You look like… You look like Sa-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, brother.” If he had the energy to flash his eyes at Amenadiel, he would’ve. 

“You know it’s true, Luci.” Amenadiel said softly; it was a gentle tone, one that said more than enough about the situation. 

“Yes! I know… Trust me, _I know.”_ He knew his brother didn’t want a fight, but he was tired and hurting and all he wanted to do was sleep. 

“Is Trixie home?” Maze interjected, and even though her question was to the child’s parents, her eyes never left him. 

“No, she’s at a sleepover. Even if she was, I doubt she’d wake up from the noise.” Chloe answered, reclaiming her place on the arm of the couch. 

Maze nodded a few times, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and crossing her arms. Her brows were drawn together, like she was contemplating something. The demon sighed, obviously coming to a conclusion to her silent problem and turned her glare towards Amenadiel. 

“So, which one of your fucked up siblings did this huh?” Her voice was sharp, reminding Lucifer very much of the argument they’d had not too long ago. 

Oh, his brother was _so_ in for it.

“Which one of them came down here and did that to him? Answer me, Amenadiel!” Ever fierce and loyal, his Mazie. He was so proud.

“How am I supposed to know, Maze?! _You’re_ the one who told _me_ about this!” Amenadiel argued, shoulders rising and palms spread as he got to his feet. 

Chloe sighed, knowing better than to get in Maze’s way when she was on a mission, _especially_ when she agreed with said mission. 

Maze knew Lucifer better than anyone; if she thought it was one of Lucifer’s siblings that did this, she was probably right. Not to mention, Chloe knew just how hard it was to bring her partner down; this wasn’t a case of a random mugging or even kidnapping. Someone big and someone powerful had done this, and if anyone could get to the bottom of it, Chloe was sure they were all in this room. 

Maze and Amenadiel continued to argue, though what they were saying was hard to follow. Mostly, Maze was swearing and Amenadiel was wondering why she was yelling at him. Soon, Chloe jumped into the conversation, if for nothing other than to get them to stop yelling since it wasn’t helping anyone. 

“Guys.” Dan’s protest went unheard, barely audible over Maze’s curses. 

“Guys.” More swearing, and now Chloe was stepping in between the two as Maze had gotten her knives out. 

“Guys!”

“What, Dan?!” Chloe yelled, turning towards him in frustration and gasping when she saw why he was so insistent. 

Lucifer had passed out, head lolling onto Dan’s shoulder with a pained expression on his face. It seemed that even sleep wouldn’t let him escape whatever happened to him. 

“Oh.” Amenadiel said, focusing solely on his brother as he moved back over to the couch.

Maze immediately deflated, knives going back to wherever she kept them. Her fury was replaced with thinly veiled concern, though Chloe was sure any reassurance wouldn’t be welcomed. 

“Should we wake him up?” Dan asked, meeting Chloe’s gaze with a bit of worry himself. 

“No, it’s okay, let him sleep.” She answered, brows coming together as she looked at her partner. 

Who was responsible for this? Who was able to take down Lucifer Morningstar and leave him so drained he couldn’t even remain conscious? 

“I can put him in my room.” Maze offered, moving forward to scoop Lucifer into her arms, but Amenadiel beat her to it. 

“He’s my little brother, let me.” The bounty hunter raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise didn’t protest. 

“Need help with him?” Dan asked, carefully passing her partner into his brother’s arms and standing.

Amenadiel shook his head, easily scooping Lucifer up bridal style as if her partner were just a small child who had fallen asleep in the car, and not a six-foot-three-easily-200-pound full grown man. Amenadiel looked at his brother for a moment, an odd expression crossing his face before he asked Maze to show him the way to her room. 

Once they had left, Dan stood and joined Chloe as she walked into the kitchen. She hoped Maze hadn’t drank _all_ of her alcohol. Thankfully, there was still a bottle of red (an expensive one Maze had no doubt looted from Lux; on any other day, she would have complained). Pouring a generous glass for herself, and a more modest one for Dan, Chloe sat at one of the kitchen stools with her head in her hands. She and her ex settled into a strange silence for a minute or two, neither one knowing quite what to say. 

“Do you still want that security footage Ella sent me?” It was Dan who broke the silence, turning a soft and understanding look her way. 

Right, the security tapes. The whole reason Dan was there in the first place; she had wanted a second pair of eyes to look them over after Ella had sounded so worried on the phone. Chloe nodded after a moment, sitting up as Dan started up the video on his phone so she could see. 

“What security footage?” Maze asked, joining them at the breakfast bar and pouring herself a hefty glass of wine. “Amenadiel is keeping an eye on his highness, by the way.” She added, taking a large swig from her glass. 

“Ella pulled the CCTV footage from the hospital, and tracked him to the parking lot. She said there was something we should take a look at, sounded worried… Though I guess if Lucifer is right and he was hit on the head, that would be it.” Dan explained, holding out his phone so all three of them could see.

It started with Lucifer talking on the phone, presumably leaving her the voicemail that started it all. Briefly, Chloe wondered if things would be different if she picked up, kept him talking for longer, made him walk a little faster to his car. Anything that could’ve prevented the dark figure coming up behind Lucifer, swinging what appeared to be a baton and knocking him unconscious. 

“Looks like a man, about the same height as Lucifer...” Dan said softly, eyes wide as the assailant threw Lucifer over their shoulder with ease and walked out of frame. 

She remembered him talking about how Lucifer had taken down two armed gunmen with ease when they had to gone find the formula, remembered Lucifer throwing a grown man through plated glass with one hand, picking up a heavy-set suspect and pinning him to the wall single-handedly. No, it was no easy feat to take down her partner. He thought being on the business end of a gun was hilarious, and could back that attitude up with action. She knew from experience it wasn’t easy to sneak up on him, either. Whoever did this was a force with which to be reckoned, and she didn’t like that at all. 

Maze seemed to agree with her thoughts, if the look of shock and fury on her face was anything to go by. That didn’t make her feel better. 

“Ella’s still waiting on the surrounding building’s footage, hopefully one of them will have a getaway car we can track.” Dan said, still looking quite shocked himself. 

“Chloe, you weren’t anywhere near the hospital were you?” Maze’s voice was too soft, too nervous to be hers. This footage had really and truly shaken her, too. 

Furrowing her brow in confusion, Chloe shook her head, not seeing what her whereabouts had to do with anything. 

“No, I was getting Trixie ready for bed and doing laundry here all night.” She answered, though going by her roommate’s expression it wasn’t the one she wanted. 

“Shit. Amenadiel!” Maze shouted, waiting until the dark-skinned man walked into the kitchen to start glaring at him. 

“Play it again.” Maze told Dan, moving from her spot so Amenadiel could hover over her ex. 

Chloe could think about how comfortable those two were with close proximity later, she supposed. 

As the video played, Amenadiel’s expression changed from confused to something similar to Maze’s when they watched. There was something she was missing, she was sure. 

“Chloe, you wouldn’t have happened to be–” 

“She wasn’t. You know which one of your crazy siblings that was?” Maze interrupted, arms crossed and feet shoulder width apart; if she didn’t know better, she’d say Maze was ready to punch Amenadiel in the face. 

On second thought…

“That video doesn’t prove it was one of my siblings, Maze! It could be anyone–”

“You _know_ that a human couldn’t do that to him if Chloe wasn’t around! There’s _no way_ it wasn’t!” Her roommate’s voice was sharp, and the look on her face even sharper. 

Chloe was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of that look, and it seemed Dan mirrored that thought. 

“Okay, everyone settle down a second; Lucifer’s still resting, so let’s keep the yelling to a minimum, yeah?” Chloe said, standing and gesturing for everyone to take a deep breath. 

Maze looked like she wanted to continue her verbal attack on Amenadiel, but bit her lip and inhaled deeply nonetheless. Amenadiel personally looked grateful for it. 

“Maze, why don’t you go keep an eye on Lucifer? We can take shifts; it doesn’t look like he has a concussion but he’s definitely not in good shape–I don’t want to leave him alone for too long. Amenadiel, you, Dan and I can look over the footage again and see if we can get any clues from it, yeah?” Giving orders and having a job to do made her feel better, made it easier to deal with the situation at hand. 

Maze looked like she wanted to protest her orders, but ultimately did as she asked, glaring at Amenadiel until she was out of the room. Chloe took a deep breath then, shaking her head and sighing sharply to calm down. 

The severity of the situation was starting to hit her, now, worry after worry hitting her full force and making her want to just go to bed until it was all over. She chewed on her lip, glaring at the counter as if it had all the answers to her problems. She wanted to cry, because seeing her partner, her _best-friend_ , beaten, burned, and so utterly weak he couldn't even stand was scary as all hell, no matter how turbulent their relationship had gotten. 

And there wasn’t even that good of a starting point. The video was pixilated and the assailant was hard to make out in the first place. Lucifer said he had woken up in a desert but this was California and that could be several places, all within a six hour drive. All she knew for sure was someone had knocked him out and dumped him in the desert after seriously hurting him. 

Lucifer was completely compliant, which just sounded like an oxymoron. Even when he was completely drugged up in the psychiatric hospital, Lucifer was cracking jokes, making innuendos. This time he didn’t even protest once to being manhandled by _Dan_ , didn’t crack a single joke and looked as if he were in serious pain the entire time. 

It just wasn’t _right._

Dan was watching her now, she realized, a frown marring his face before he got up and opened his arms without a word–she didn’t hesitate to step into them. This was scary and she needed the comfort. Her breath was too shaky for her liking, eyes too wet. 

She stepped back after a moment, sending Dan a thankful smile which he returned. 

Chloe nodded to herself a few times, leaning on the counter and sitting back down. The sooner they got to work, the better. 

Deep breath. 

“Okay, let’s do this. Play it again.”


	2. I Wasn't Expecting Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to get up! Unexpected medical and personal issues unfortunately got in the way. :( But for now, please enjoy. <3

This was becoming a habit, he realized. 

Normally for him, waking up in a bed not his own meant something else entirely, but despite the questionable _décor_ around him, he knew that wasn’t the case. 

No, he recognized the tanto blade he had gotten Maze some months back, recognized a small plastic trinket the spawn had gotten her (that Maze absolutely didn’t fawn over when she thought no one was watching) sitting on the bedside table. This was undoubtedly Maze’s room, though he had no idea how he had gotten there. 

Moving to sit up, he realized he wasn’t wearing his own clothes, and someone had - somewhat - cleaned his skin and hair. A black long sleeve shirt hung loosely on his arms and torso, like it was made to fit a body bulkier than his. The heathered gray sweatpants weren’t his, either, though he had a sinking feeling he knew who they belonged to, and he wasn’t happy about it. 

Groaning, he finally managed to sit completely upright, staring at his still burned hands and trying to ignore his aching back (it didn’t work).

“Luci?” Apparently, his movement roused his brother, whom he hadn’t noticed before. He glared at him. 

“Do _not_ tell me I’m wearing Dan’s clothing.” 

“Okay.” 

Had he ever mentioned he hated his brother? 

Lucifer groaned again, rolling his eyes resisting the urge the flop back on the bed as his back was still screaming at him. _Everything_ was still screaming at him, really. His whole body was sore and even though they were tucked away, his wings felt heavy and tired. 

Growing back large appendages and then immediately using them to fly hundreds of miles took a lot out of you, it seemed. 

“How did I get in Maze’s bed, brother? I don’t think even I was up to any fun times last night.” 

“You passed out on Dan’s shoulder so I carried you in here.” Amenadiel looked far too smug at that. 

“You carried me like a baby again, didn’t you?” Lucifer glared, very tempted to punch his brother when he just smirked at him. 

Suddenly, flopping on his back didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all, so he did. 

(It was still a bad idea).

A moment passed, Lucifer staring at the ceiling and Amenadiel staring at him. He wanted to go back to sleep, but somehow doubted he could; his brain was too awake now, too busy trying to put together the pieces of this fucked up puzzle. He hoped that when he did, the picture was something he liked. 

It was Amenadiel who broke the silence some minutes later, with a question he’d been dreading falling off his tongue. 

“So, are they really back?” 

“Ah, yes, that’s the question of the hour, isn’t it…?” He muttered, sitting up again and pulling his shirt up so his brother could feel his back. 

Thankfully, his brother’s hands were surprisingly gentle on the sore skin, only pressing on certain joints to confirm. The movement forced a croak of pain from him, pressing his lips into a thin line and blinking fast to try to ignore the sharp burst. Amenadiel’s hands quickly retreated, an apology coming quick from his mouth. Lucifer shook his head, but didn’t replace the shirt on his back. Instead, he looked around the room and nodded to himself before standing on wobbly legs. 

“What are you doing, Luci?” Amenadiel asked, quickly moving in front of him, ready to catch him if he fell. 

“Take one of my feathers to Linda.” He said simply, and before Amenadiel could protest he brought forth his wings and stretched them as far as the room would allow. 

Amenadiel took a moment to gape (his feathers did _not_ puff out in pride, thank you), but quickly regained composure as he stepped closer to his left wing. His brother’s hands were incredibly gentle, a memory of grooming when they were children coming unbidden into his mind. 

Things were much simpler in those times. 

Lucifer swallowed hard, eyes glued on Amenadiel when he picked out a small feather and pulled. He couldn’t help it, he flinched and made a sound of discomfort, but it was over in a second and Amenadiel was gently rubbing the spot the feather had been. An angel’s wings were so, so sensitive, and him being so sore already didn’t help. 

After his brother pocketed the feather, Lucifer tucked in his wings so they were out of sight again before collapsing back on the bed and slumping over on his knees. Having one of the human occupants of the house walk in on this would not be good for anybody. 

“Maze and I will get this to Linda, you should go inside; Chloe started lunch not too long ago.” 

Doggedly he nodded, forcing himself to stand once more. Amenadiel rushed to his side, but he quickly brushed him off and hobbled towards the door. 

“I’ve been manhandled enough the last few hours, thank you.” 

His brother smirked at him but placed a gentle hand in the small of his back nonetheless, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful. 

And Lucifer Morningstar never lied. 

He was far too prideful to say ‘thank you’ to his older brother, but he hoped the look he sent Amenadiel was enough. It seemed to be, if the knowing smile on his face was anything to go by. 

It took some time, but eventually the pair made it into the kitchen, where Dan quickly vacated his chair for him to sit. 

Muttering something resembling a thank you, the fallen angel not-so-gracefully slunk into the chair and sighed. He placed his arms on the table, resting his forehead on them and groaning quietly. 

Everything was so sore, it made all his surroundings fuzzy, like a fog had come over the Detective’s kitchen and hung solely around him. He attributed some of the pain to being in her presence, some of it to the fact he’d flown for Father knows how long after being dumped in the middle of the desert. 

“Welcome back to the world of the living.” It was Chloe who interrupted his train of thought, derailing his pity party with a glass of water and a few pills he assumed were for pain. 

She was giving him a slight smile when he looked up at her, making him chuckle as he slowly sat up and took the items. His lips cracked and bled a little when he did so, leaving a few stains on the rim as he swallowed the pills and water a bit too fast. This whole mortal business was rather troublesome, if you asked him; too little water and he bled when he drank? No, thank you. 

“Shame this isn’t vodka, Detective; would’ve made waking up in your home just all the more delightful.” He aimed for his signature smirk, raising an eyebrow and all, but based on the look on literally everyone’s face he had fallen short by a mile. 

Maybe ten. He was tired. 

“I think vodka is the last thing you need, even if alcohol probably outweighs your body’s water percentage. How are you feeling?” The Detective asked, passing a spatula to Dan so he could take over whatever it was she was making while she came over to him. 

“Very much like I’ve been rolled over with a semi, or had a rather fun night with the Hulk.” 

“Ew.” 

“You asked, Detective.” 

And she was rolling her eyes at him, marvelous. It was much better than that worried frown she’d been sporting last night; having her exacerbated with him was nothing new, something so commonplace it brought a smile to his face every time, but having her look at him like the way she had when he stumbled through the door was something he never wanted to see again. 

“Well, at least you sound more like yourself. You were really out of it last night, man.” Dan said, flipping a few slices of bacon over and flinching as a grease bubble popped in his face. 

He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept much or at all. Come to think of it, none of them did. Chloe was still frazzled, blonde hairs sticking out in every direction and tied back into a lazy bun; Dan’s clothes were rumpled, his hair messy from where his styling gel was fading. Maze and Amenadiel looked better in that sense, but he supposed that made sense– _they_ weren’t mortal around the Detective after all. 

Looking over all of them, Lucifer nodded slightly and took another sip from his glass. This was ridiculous. 

“Right, out with it–have any of you slept? At all?” 

“Eh, not really.” Dan said, shrugging. 

“We took turns keeping an eye on you, switched off every hour.” Maze explained, wandering around to hover behind the Detective and stealing a slice of bacon. 

“Well that seems a bit much. I was sleeping, not having seizures.” He wasn’t having seizures, was he?

“You couldn’t even stand up on your own, Lucifer. And you were hit on the head, hard. We had to monitor you to make sure you were okay.” Chloe explained, speaking as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Right…” It was a weird feeling that bubbled in his chest, one he wasn’t used to and didn’t want to think about so he changed the subject, turning to his brother and Maze. 

“You two should get going; the sooner you get that feather to Linda the better.” 

Amenadiel blinked at him for a moment, then gasped and patted his jacket pocket a few times. Maze looked confused for a moment, but quickly caught onto what was happening and practically dragged poor Amenadiel to the door before Chloe interrupted. 

“Oh, no. Whatever weird voodoo you want to do to Linda you can do later. Have lunch first, she’s not going anywhere.” She said, giving her best Mom Glare™ at the pair. 

Lucifer chuckled into his hand, a wave of pride rolling over him when Maze rolled her eyes with a sigh and dragged Amenadiel back into the kitchen. No one could resist Chloe’s mom glare, no way. 

Soon everyone was seated around the counter, all with their own BLT in front of them. A light hearted conversation picked up, as it seemed no one wanted to address the elephant in the room. Once the meal was over, Maze was once again dragging Amenadiel through the door by his arm, but no one stopped her this time. It was rather amusing, really, to see a such a large and well-built man such as his brother being so easily manipulated by a seemingly tiny woman. 

Looks were certainly deceiving, he knew that all too well. 

The pain pills the Detective had given him earlier seemed to be kicking in now, helping dull the all over ache to a more manageable level. It seemed being mortal around her had its perks. He was able to stand without assistance, moving to help with the dishes but was quickly shooed away by the Detective to the living room. With a pout, he did as asked, shuffling slowly and _gracefully_ falling onto the sofa. Dan joined him a minute later, sitting on the arm and smiling down at him. 

“I suppose I should be thanking you, Daniel. For assisting me last night and for the clothing. You didn’t have to do that for me.” Lucifer said honestly, pushing himself up further so he could properly face his friend. 

“Nah, man, don’t worry about it. I’m a cop, it’s my job to help people when they need it, especially when it’s a friend.” Dan said, smiling good naturedly as he gave his leg a gentle pat. 

Blinking at him for a moment, Lucifer let the words sink fully into his brain, let their meaning fully resonate. To be completely honest with himself, it was just a relief to know Daniel also thought of him as a friend; he really didn’t have many of those, and he found himself doubting the few he did daily. 

He was the Devil–no one is friends with the Devil. Yet, here they were, a handful of people who deemed him worthy of friendship. Eons upon eons of thinking he was unworthy of such a thing all changed in little more than a year, and it was startling to say the least. He hoped one day he’d be able to fully express what that meant to him. 

Pressing his lips together, Lucifer nodded at his friend, scootching over so they could share the sofa comfortably. 

“Well, your kindness will not go unnoticed.” He said, smiling gently and patting Dan on the shoulder. 

The other man laughed, though not in a teasing way. He much prefered speaking with Daniel like this, when things were pleasant and calm.

“Whatever you say, buddy.” 

“You know, I have to say–it’s much nicer to see you two getting along instead of arguing.” Chloe teased, walking into the room and smiling at the pair as she sat on the arm of the sofa. 

Lucifer coughed. 

The subject needed to change, before that weird bubbly feeling returned to his chest whenever people were nice to him. 

“Right, well um… Suppose we should talk about the serious things now, yes? How long was I gone?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at the other occupants in the room. 

The Detective sighed, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment before answering. 

“About two days. Maze found your car in the parking lot the morning after you called me, we started looking into what happened then. What happened to your piano at Lux, by the way?” She asked, tilting her head and squinting in curiousity; her Thinking Face, he liked to call it. 

“Oh, let’s just say my mother wasn’t happy with me, shall we?” An awkward smile rose on his face, hoping she wouldn’t pry further into the matter. 

He really didn’t know how he was supposed to explain how Charlotte Richards had thrown him and Amenadiel into a baby grand hard enough to crush it, and it wasn’t quite the right time for the whole “My family created the universe and I’m actually the Devil.” talk. Not just yet. 

Chloe looked very much like she didn’t quite believe him, like she knew there was more he wasn’t willing to tell her, but thankfully didn’t press for further information. She simply nodded, crossing her arms and legs in thought. 

“Well, anyway, after checking out Lux and finding it like that, we put out a BOLO on you. The hospital was incredibly slow in giving us the CCTV footage, but–oh! You should take a look, actually, maybe you can recognize him; Amenadiel and Maze didn’t.” Before she could even say so, Dan was pulling up a video on his phone and passing it to him as it played his attack. 

It took all of his willpower to make sure his eyes didn’t flash red.

“That son of a bitch…” The Devil growled, tendons and veins in his neck taught as he tried to keep himself under control. “And you said Amenadiel didn’t recognize him?” 

“Yeah, do you?” Dan asked, carefully taking his phone back before Lucifer accidentally (or purposefully) crushed it. 

“Of course I bloody recognize him! It’s my damn twin brother! I swear, I’m gonna tear–” His threat was cut off when he stood up, world instantly spinning and turning dark around the edges. 

Sinking back into the cushions with a groan, Lucifer kept his eyes shut, knowing all too well that they were burning red with Hellfire. He needed to calm down; freaking out on Chloe and Dan now would get him nothing but maybe a bullet through his skull. It took a few moments of deep breathing, but eventually he was able to bank the Hellfire.

“I’m going to kick Amenadiel in the balls.” He announced, staring at the ceiling as if it had caused all of this. 

“Lucifer.” Chloe protested, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“He should have recognized Michael, the bastard.” 

“And Maze?” She asked.

“No, the last time Maze would have seen him was millennia ago; I don’t blame her for not recognizing him.” Lucifer sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“ _I_ haven’t seen Michael in millennia, what is he doing here…?” He mumbled, mostly to himself. 

“So you really got the short end of the stick with the religious names, huh?” Dan joked after a moment, if for nothing else than to break the tension that had fallen over the room. 

Lucifer gave a snort, rolling his eyes with a shake of his head. He debated for a second on whether to share _that_ particular piece of information, before deciding there wasn’t too much harm in doing so. He trusted these humans, both of them (somehow). 

“Lucifer is not the name I was given at birth, Daniel.” 

“Oh… well that’s better, I guess. Good to know you weren’t named after the Devil right off the bat.” 

“You can’t be named after yourself.” Lucifer protested, leaning back in the cushions once more tiredly. 

Even with the pain medication, he was hurting. He closed his eyes, licking his still too dry lips. Sleep sounded inviting. 

“Right, forgot who I was talking to… What was your name before?”

Opening one eye to stare at Dan, Lucifer raised an eyebrow at him in question. 

“I think you should know by now that if I want you to know something about me, you’d know it.” Really, he _invented_ over-sharing. 

“That’s very true.” Dan chuckled, thankfully dropping the subject. 

“Anyway… Do you have any idea why Michael would attack you? You said he was your twin, right?” Chloe asked, eyebrows coming together with a frown marring her face. 

“Yes, he is. And I know it’s because of Dear Old Dad, no doubt. Michael was always the most… _loyal_ , of my siblings. On Father’s orders, he… Well, let’s just say it wasn’t pleasant to be kicked out of the house.” He explained, pressing his lips together and giving a sad excuse for a smile. 

Having his own twin break his wings and several other bones and hurl him from Heaven, only to watch as he caught fire with a neutral expression was not fun, to say the least. 

“You know, the more I hear about your Dad the more I dislike him.” Chloe announced, thankfully pulling the brakes on the trauma train before it could head full throttle into the forefront of his mind. 

“Join the club, Detective. I believe there are several, actually.” A smirk came easy to him this time, Chloe rolling her eyes at him in response. 

“ _Anyway._ ” She said, fighting a smile. “Is there anything that could have provoked your father to send Michael? Did you two have an argument, or...?” She gestured with her left hand, hoping he would provide some of the missing information.

Instantly, Lucifer’s face closed off, eyebrows coming together and lips forming a thin line. 

“I suppose he could be unhappy with the way I dealt with a certain situation, though there’s nothing anyone could do about it now. The blade’s gone, and so is–” He cut himself off there, suddenly finding the throw pillow next to him incredibly fascinating. “So is something beyond your concern, Detective.” 

“Uh-huh.” She said, frowning and raising an eyebrow at him. “You know, if you keep secrets I can’t help you, right?” 

“I–” Lucifer started, only to be cut off by Chloe’s phone going off. 

“It’s Trixie, hang on.” The Detective explained with a sigh, answering her phone and wrapping an arm around her middle. “Hey Monkey… Yeah, Daddy’s gonna pick you up in a little while, okay?... I know, Sweetie, but Lucifer’s not feeling so well so I’m–… Yes, he’s okay… Yes, I’ll tell him you said feel better… Okay, Baby, I love you… Bye, Monkey.” 

“Should I head over now?” Dan said, feeling his pockets for his keys. 

“Yeah… I think Lucifer and I should head to Lux, maybe see if we can figure out what happened, and so he can get in a shower.” 

“I’m sitting right here, Detective!” Lucifer protested, raising his arms and flopping them on his thighs at the mild jab. 

She only smirked at him, while Daniel chuckled and gripped his shoulder in a soft hold. 

“If you need anything, give me a call. You can return the clothes when you come back to work.” With that, he stood, swinging his car keys on his index finger. 

The detective rubbed Chloe’s back in a comforting gesture, slipping out the door with a quick ‘See you later!’ called over his shoulder. 

Once they were in alone, Chloe slid into the seat Dan had vacated, pressing herself softly against his side. 

Any words he had planned to say became trapped in his throat, much like his larynx was a bear-trap that slammed shut. How could he even begin to breach these waters? How could he begin to tell Chloe the truth she so desperately wanted and deserved, when he didn’t know it for himself?

How could he let his hopes get up that it would be simple?

Well, simple was a harsh word; there was no simple way to ruin someone’s theological world view and possibly make them banish you from their life forever, but for as many languages as he spoke, Lucifer couldn’t come up with a different word. Just, simple. 

Because it was supposed to be. He was supposed to show the Detective his face, the burned and tortured red horror-fest that hid behind a guise of a handsome club owner. He was supposed to pour her a drink (or six) and keep his distance. He was supposed to stay behind several pieces of furniture, let her point (and possibly shoot) her gun at him if she wished, and hopefully, _hopefully_ , make her feel safe in his presence. 

He was supposed to tell her he’d never dream of hurting her. He was supposed to apologize for all he’d gotten wrong, for all he’d inevitably get wrong in the future (if she’d still want the Devil around, of course). He was supposed to tell her the truth about how she came to be, how she was a miracle in every sense of the word. 

He was supposed to promise to protect her, to always be by her side if she’d have him. 

He was supposed to reassure her that he’d be gone in a heartbeat if she just said the word, no matter how hard that’d be, how much it’d hurt. 

On paper, it didn’t seem simple, not at all. But, in retrospect of the shit-show that was his existence, telling Chloe that he was the real-life Devil seemed rather simple indeed. 

(After all, he’d been doing it since the day they met.)

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Chloe watching him, didn’t notice the soft expression on her face, one of sadness and longing, until he felt a soft hand curl into his. 

“Hey.” He turned, chapped lips parted as he met her gaze. He must look pitiful, because she gives him a soft smile and squeezes his fingers. “You know I won’t let your brother get away with this, right? Or your Dad, for that matter.” 

And he smiled back, something sad and longing right back at her. 

“If only it were that simple, Detective.” 

Chloe sighed, nodding a bit in understanding. Still, she squeezed his fingers again, standing and gently pulling him up with her. 

“Well, simple or not, it’ll never get done if we keep moping here. C’mon, let’s go back to Lux, see if maybe we can pinpoint where you were taken to, or if maybe there’s something I missed. At least get you in the shower, a wet towel can only clean so much.” 

“Mm, maybe you can join me, Detective? I might need assistance…” He leered, signature smirk in place as they made their way to the door, the Detective rolling her eyes at him once again. 

“Shut up and put on these shoes, would you?” She said, holding up a pair of no doubt Daniel’s old running shoes. 

With a huff, he squished his toes into the sneakers, grumbling the whole way to the car. He was slow, and savored every second Chloe hovered around him to make sure he was steady. 

Thankfully the ride to Lux was quiet, and it seemed that the pain medication Chloe had given him had fully set in, considering the fact he was able to move his head freely without his brain feeling like it was made of gelatin. 

Stepping onto the main floor, he frowned. Something didn’t feel quite right. Lucifer rolled his shoulders a few times in the elevator, trying to ignore the odd tingling feeling he felt crawl up his neck. It didn’t help that Chloe seemed to feel it too, if the way her hand hovered over her holster was any indication. 

When the doors dinged open, he allowed Chloe to take the lead, but never strayed far from her back. He kept his shoulders poised, ready to release his wings on a second’s notice should the need arise. He could deal with the ramifications afterwards if it came down to it. 

“The balcony doors weren’t open when I searched up here…” Chloe muttered, drawing her gun, muzzle pointed towards the floor as they made their way around the penthouse. 

When they came around the frame of his bedroom’s doorway, it turned out Lucifer didn’t need to worry about the ramifications of _him_ showing off his wings, because there was his twin brother, placing a neatly folded and achingly familiar white uniform on his bed, pale golden wings on full display behind him. 

Chloe choked on her own tongue, a distressing sound falling from her mouth, blue eyes impossibly wide. Lucifer gave her mental props for keeping her hold on her gun, now trained directly at the angel in front of them. 

A snarl formed on the Devil’s own lips, not hesitating to stand bodily in the way of the Detective as his brother whirled around, eyes wide and hands up in a sign of surrender. The angel’s wings quickly vanished from view, but the damage was done, and nothing could quiet the rage roaring in Lucifer’s chest. Hellfire burned his irises, but he did nothing to stop it. 

“Michael.” He forced himself to keep his voice somewhat human, forced the guttural, animalistic fiery anger to stay locked in his throat. 

Chloe was right behind him. He could feel her presence hovering just behind his shoulder, hear her labored breaths rattle her lungs. He imagined her face was one of shock, maybe horror (or disgust - he hoped it wasn’t disgust). It made his rage all the more powerful, but grounded at the same time. 

He would never stop marvelling over the effect this tiny human woman had on him, but now wasn’t really the time. 

Afterall, his brother was speaking, and if he wanted a (more) justified reason to deck his brother in the face, he supposed he should listen. 

“L-Lucifer…! You’re home… earlier than I expected… I-I swear I can explain.”

The Devil growled, teeth bared as he held himself wide and tall; a shield.

“Well, start talking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than the last bit, yes but some serious Angst is just on the horizon! Let me know what you think! Until next time my friends!


	3. It Hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: brief description of a panic attack in the beginning, reader discretion is advised.
> 
> pain is ahead, i'm very sorry.
> 
> (not really)

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four._

_Five._

_Okay, okay… THINK, Decker, think._

_They could totally just be props, right? It’s a rich family and-_

_No. Props don’t just vanish like that._

_Fuck._

Chloe Decker’s head ached. No matter how high she counted, how many breaths she took, nothing could replace the absolute _terror_ she felt overtake her body. 

She took another look at Lucifer’s brother (and _fuck_ , suddenly Lucifer’s name weighed 300 pounds on her tongue and she had no idea if she would be able to say it ever again), took in how sad and scared he looked. She took in Lucifer–Mother-Fucking- _Lucifer_ –and his arched back, took in how his shoulders were shaking in minute rage. She took in how his body was standing in front of hers, acting as a human _(not human holy sh-)_ shield. The muzzle of her gun was poking into the space between his arm and body. 

Her gun shook in her hands, so much so that she was positive that if she took a shot, she’d miss her target completely. Maybe if she was lucky she’d hit Lucifer’s fancy lamp. It looked expensive, so she put her gun away.

It took three tries to get it in the holster, but she put it away. 

They were talking (yelling), she could tell, but their voices sounded like they were coming from the television upstairs, not a mere three feet in front of her. Her ears were ringing, loud, too loud, and the room was spinning and everything was fuzzy and–

_Panic Attack_ , her mind briefly registered, as if giving it a name would help (it didn’t). Her lungs were acting as if oxygen was going out of style and this room was the last place she could get it. She had calmed down countless suspects and victims from panic attacks, but now she knew why so many had shot her dirty looks when she said “Calm down, everything’s okay.”, because no matter how many times she told herself to do just that, her panicking body gave her the middle finger. 

Michael took a step forward just then, and she must’ve made a sound because two heads swiveled to look at her. Lucifer turned fully to her, slowly, hands raised right where she could see them clearly. Instinctively, she took a step back, stumbling slightly when she felt her heel rock back on the ledge. 

“Detective… Please, it’s alright. I’m not going to harm you.” He sounded so small then, so sad and hurt. His voice was muffled, too, like he was speaking through his hand but she could see his mouth uncovered. 

She forced herself to meet his eyes, but it was hard to see through the tears. She did see something break on his face, however, but she couldn’t place just why. 

“Why…” He swallowed, looking very much like someone had punched him in the face. “Why don’t you go have a seat, Detective. Collect your thoughts, yes?” 

She nodded (somehow), taking the out and let the Devil–actual in-the-flesh _Devil_ –lead her to his leather sofa. As she was sinking into the plush cushions, she realized he never touched her. It struck her as odd, as he had lead her to this very couch before with his hand in hers and an arm around her shoulders. She stomped down the disappointment she felt because it made no sense, and she was appreciative that he didn’t touch her just then.

Before she could even fully put her head in her hands, a pitcher of water and a glass was placed in front of her. She flinched when she saw Lucifer so close, but she might as well have slapped him in the face if the expression he wore meant anything. Quickly, he retreated behind a chair, hands visible the entire time. 

He was putting a barrier between them, she realized with a jolt. She didn’t want to think about why that made her chest hurt.

“Please… Have some water, or the bar is there if you’d prefer. Take your time, Detective… And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” He gave her one last pained smile, tears pooling in his eyes before he retreated up into his bedroom. 

She took several deep breaths then, gasping for air as if she had just surfaced from a deep dive in the Pacific, as if no longer being in the immediate presence of the divine meant her pitiful human lungs could work again. Her hands found purchase in her hair, pulling at the golden strands and possibly ripping a few out. 

It took her a few moments, but eventually she was able to pour herself a glass of water with still trembling hands. With a bit more effort, she was even able to take a few gulps. If her throat hurt from drinking too fast, she didn’t think on it too much.

She hoped Lucifer wouldn’t mind the new water stains on his table and floor. 

Even more moments (seconds, minutes, hours– she couldn’t tell you) later, Chloe finally felt like she was able to breathe again. Her stomach wasn’t actively trying to escape her body via her throat, and her heart no longer seemed to be competing for the world record of fastest heart-rate. 

It took even longer for her ears to stop ringing, for the words being screamed in the other room to become understandable. 

“... and you _abandoned_ me, brother! Raphael, Gabriel, Amenadiel, Ur–” Lucifer cut himself off with a choking noise, and it seemed he took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing. “ _Them_ , I could understand. But, you, _you, Michael–_ ” The name was spat like poison, and Chloe couldn’t say she blamed him if his words were true. 

“You think I wanted to?! Sam–”

“ _DON’T YOU DARE CALL ME THAT!_ ” The Devil roared. 

Chloe shrunk back into the corner of the sofa, as if the leather would keep her safe from that rage. Rage she didn’t think she’d ever heard from Lucifer before. Rage that seemed to shake the entire building and coat the room in a sheen of red.

“ _Samael–_ ” Michael stressed, ignoring the purely animalistic growl that came from Lucifer as he continued on. “I _love_ you. I never _stopped_ loving you. You’re my brother, _my other half_. I never, _ever_ wanted to hurt you. I didn’t have a choice, I-I had to protect you! Sammy,” Michael sounded like he was crying now, but still he ignored Lucifer’s protest of “Don’t call me that, _please_ ”. “I wish I could take it all back, I wish I could’ve done something different… When Father told me how angry he was with you… I had to do _something_ , he wanted you gone!” 

“And that _'something'_ just so happened to be breaking most of my bones and hurtling me off the edge of the Silver City? Watching as I quite literally caught fire and _burned_ all the way down to _Hell?!_ Sounds like a lovely plan, brother, tell me more about how that’s supposed to make it all better.” There was a slapping sound, and Chloe could perfectly imagine Lucifer in that moment, hands hitting his thighs, chin drawn back with _that_ expression on his face; the expression he made when she confronted him after he stood in front of a sniper, the expression he made after Father Frank was killed, the expression that made her heart hurt and made her feel all of two feet tall because there was nothing she could do to make it go away. 

Chloe could also feel the bile rising in her throat, and new tears pooling in her eyes because _fuck_ Lucifer sounded so _broken._

There was a silence, then some shuffling and it sounded like a body had sat down on the bed. She didn’t dare try to peek around the column, instead staring out and over at the Los Angeles skyline, but not really seeing it. 

“What’s the saying? The road to Hell is paved with good intentions? Well, Brother, you certainly paved it, but you weren’t the one to walk it.” Lucifer growled, but his voice was quiet, small. Chloe made out the sound of a lighter being flicked on once, twice. 

Another body sat down on the bed, and then, “I never wanted–”

“Why are you here, Michael?” Lucifer interrupted. He sounded so tired. 

“I wanted to talk to you… I wanted to at least explain–” 

“Explain?!” Lucifer laughed, but it sounded just shy of sane. “You thought the best way to _explain_ was to knock me out and _kidnap_ me, then drag me out into the middle of the _desert_ and restore the wings I had _cut off?!_ ” Lucifer’s voice got louder and more incredulous as he spoke, and Chloe couldn’t help but agree (she wasn’t even going to touch the idea of Lucifer cutting his wings off because What The Fuck). 

“That wasn’t my idea!” Lucifer must’ve given him a look because there was a slight pause, and this time she pictured it as the one he gave Dan anytime he tried to make a joke. “Sa– _fine, Lucifer_ , stop looking at me like that, I _promise you_ it wasn’t my idea.”

“And to whom do I give the credit to if not you?” More flicking, then a grunt and the sound of metal hitting wood. She made a mental note to remind him to get a new lighter. 

“Azrael...”

“Azrael?”

“Azrael.” 

In the silence, Chloe took the chance to remember exactly _who_ Azrael was, digging through her memories of the five weeks of Sunday School she had been forced to attend to please her Grandmother. When she remembered that Azrael was the _Angel Of Death_ , Chloe nearly choked on her own tongue.

“Well, that… actually makes sense.” Lucifer decided. 

“I know, right? Our sister is… Really Scary. And she’s… Really Mad. At you.” Chloe could hear the capital letters, and decided that the freak out about the Angel Of Death being a woman could wait. 

“Ah.”

“She really liked her blade, you know.” 

“I suppose I should’ve thought of that when I got rid of it, shouldn’t I?” 

“It would’ve been a good idea.” 

A sigh, and she realized she couldn’t tell who had done it. Now that she thought about it, they sounded incredibly similar, but Michael lacked the same British accent Lucifer had. Instead, it was leaning towards something more guttural, but overall still fairly neutral. 

She briefly wondered how Lucifer got his, and decided she’d pester him about it later. 

Much later. 

“Azrael told me she wanted to get back at you, for throwing her blade in another universe,” and wait, _what?_ “And since I had wanted to speak with you anyway, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to at least make sure she didn’t maim you.” 

“I appreciate it.” Chloe could hear the eyeroll. 

“Turns out she wanted to leave you stranded in the desert. Said since you cut your wings off it would be funny to see you try and get back here. It sounded harmless enough.” Michael explained, sounding very much like Trixie when she got caught stealing chocolate cake before dinner. 

Lucifer was quiet for a moment, and she heard the crinkling of fabric. She wondered if he was twisting the duvet in his hand. 

“And my… wings?” It sounded like just saying the word caused him physical pain.

“I had no idea! I promise, I didn’t, Brother.” Michael exclaimed. “Azrael wasn’t happy about it either. As soon as she saw you had them back, she stormed off… You know for someone so short she’s really intimidating.” Michael said, sounding sheepish. 

“You’re just a pushover.”

“Hey!” 

Ah, yes, there was that family resemblance. 

Another breath, two, then: “And… the uniform?” The word ‘uniform’ was spat from Lucifer’s mouth, and Chloe could easily imagine the curl of his lips. 

“After your wings were… Restored, I went back to the Silver City to try and get any information I could.” She took a deep breath remembering that the ‘Silver City’ was actual _Heaven_. “Raphael met me at the Gates, holding it. He didn’t really say anything– you know he’s not very good with words– just shoved it in my arms and glared at me.” Chloe wondered if Michael's default setting was timid.

“I wish I was surprised.” Lucifer sounded deeply exhausted, but then again he was barely able to walk an hour ago and she sincerely doubted the impromptu family reunion helped. 

“Brother… I believe this is a sign of peace, forgiveness. That you can–”

“What makes you think I want to go back to that place?!” Bed springs creaked, and this time Chloe did dare to peek around the columns, spotting Lucifer standing in the way of his brother, chest heaving. 

The Devil’s rage fell heavy across the penthouse once again, calling back the red sheen from before. It made the air thick and hot, reminding her of a trip she had taken to Florida several years back with her Mother, reminding her of the humid weather and how it filled her lungs. Lucifer’s rage resonated deep within her ribcage, making her heart race like a Thoroughbred aiming for the Triple Crown. But, while his rage was impressive, it was nothing in the face of what made Chloe quickly cover her mouth and muffle a yell. 

No, that was because of the two, gigantic white _wings_ flaring out from Lucifer’s back, reflecting the dim golden light of the penthouse in an almost iridescent manner. 

Chloe’s shoulders shook from the effort it took to breathe, to try and shove the sudden shock of seeing the Devil’s _wings_ to the back of her mind. It was an immense task, but she forced herself to do it. She forced herself to stay glued to the leather seat beneath, to not rush forward and bury her fingers into the blinding white. 

She didn’t think that in all her nearly thirty-six years she’d seen anything that could even hold a candle to the beauty of Lucifer’s wings. Tears formed yet again, and for the best reason that day alone. It was just pure, unadulterated, awe. Slowly, her hand fell from her mouth, collapsing on her thigh as she tried to catch her breath. 

“... started that ‘rebellion’ _for a reason_ , Brother!” Lucifer shouted, voice resonating in her ears like a gong once her brain was able to process reality again. 

“I don’t _want_ to _ever_ go back! An eternity of servitude to _Him_ is what I was trying to _avoid!_ That’s all I’ve ever wanted, all I ever asked of Father… I just wanted to be my own man.” Lucifer’s voice was so full of emotion, cracking at the end in clear, unbearable pain. 

When he had started talking (shouting), it didn’t take an avian expert to see his wings were in a clear display of aggression, anger. The edges of his feathers (and, _wow_ , wasn’t that weird to think) shone like blades, spread as far as the room would allow because they were that massive. The feathers closer to his back puffed, making his already large presence impossibly larger. Their span commanded attention, dared anyone to try and hurt him. Idly, Chloe wondered if she’d cut her fingers if she were to run them over the edges of his feathers. 

But now… now…

Now, his wings had wilted, much like the poor Fern she had tried to keep once upon a time, but was neglected and brown due to her busy schedule. 

If sadness was a palpable thing, she’d easily be able to see it drip down, soak and stain his beautiful, pristine white feathers in a heavy navy slick. 

The tips of his primaries grazed the floor, softly folding on the black tile. The puffed feathers had flattened down, and she watched as he contracted his muscles and brought his wings slightly around him, creating a metaphorical cocoon. 

She wondered if he was conscious of it. 

“I’m tired of being controlled like a bloody marionette. I’m tired of you lot upstairs deciding where to put me, or-or what cosmic joke would be funny to pull next. I’m _tired_ of the manipulations, the lies. I’m _done_. It was bad enough when it was just me… But, of course you had to drag _her_ into it as well.” 

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat. 

She didn’t have to be a detective to figure out who it was he was talking about. 

“First, the Detective making me mortal; it was all fun and games at first until I found out the truth.” She couldn’t see his face, but Lucifer’s words and tone told of the pain she was sure was on it. 

“That she was put in my path, a bloody _miracle!_ ” He snarled, but it was through tears; he spoke as if a sob had lodged its way into his throat and insisted on staying there. “I bet you lot just found it _hilarious_ to put her in my path, didn’t you? Had a great big laugh over how _stupid_ I was to fall in lo–” He stopped suddenly again, and so did she.

A breath. 

“Did you find it amusing, Brother? To watch as a human was forced fall for the Big Bad Devil?” And wait, _what? (Again)_. “Did you find it funny as she was used as a pawn? Were you just hoping I’d die in her presence and be sent back to Hell?!”

Chloe shot to her feet then, ready to join in the shouting match, but Lucifer wasn’t done. 

“Is you being here just another part of it? Or maybe this is just another ploy to get me back to Hell?” Lucifer laughed, but there was nothing funny about it. “Well, I hate to break it to you, _Mikey_ , but you failed. Amenadiel failed, that pathetic excuse for a human failed, _I_ failed.” Chloe’s heart broke as he seemed to swallow a sob.

“Sa–Lucifer, _no–_ ”

“Yes! Maybe you succeeded and I’m stuck in a cell! Because _none of it was real!_ ”

Chloe jolted back then, clutching her shaking hands to her chest. 

She’d heard enough. 

Doing a quick glance around the room, she made sure none of her belongings were left behind. Nothing was, though she did grab the dark gray throw blanket off the back of the couch on her way to the elevator. 

Lucifer and Michael were still arguing when she stepped in, both seeming to have forgotten about her presence. That was fine, she was more than happy to be forgotten in that moment, jamming the ‘close doors’ button as hard as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> come bother me on twitter! @/rux_ian

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Next chapter will be up in the next few days. :D


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